


Beers From The Round Table

by ThtGrnGntlmn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, I love him, M/M, also: gwaine still is relevant to the story, arthur frequents that bar seldom, arthur's a messy boi, college students, gwaine is the constant drunk guy in the background, gwen likes to come in a few times, he's a whiny cat, he's important, merlin works in a bar, merlin's just a busboy for the most part, mordred isn't a person, morgana owns the bar, morgana's got a bikerchick vibe, struggling college kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-06 12:02:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12817101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThtGrnGntlmn/pseuds/ThtGrnGntlmn
Summary: At university, Merlin is struggling to keep his head above the water with finances, and the way he makes up for it? He works at a local bar. At The Knight's Table, an establishment owned by his headstrong but lovable boss, Morgana, Merlin busses tables for a living. Every couple of days or so, a certain grubby blond boy makes an appearance. He certainly gives Merlin the runaround.





	1. Pendragon's Pub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just an fyi the title is in reference to Morgana's last name since the actual bar is The Knight's Table and bc it's (Morgana) Pendragon's Pub

Warm sunlight drifted through the window slits onto Merlin's skin as he scrubbed away at a stubborn, sticky stain on the table before him. _Whoever last drank here_ , he thought to himself, _has abysmal table manners._ He continued to mutter under his breath as he sprayed, then scrubbed, sprayed, then scrubbed...

"Merlin?" A shrill voice called out. The young boy peeped his head up from behind the tall booth seats in the direction of the voice.

"’m right here!" He responded.

Morgana turned the corner into the dining room--if one could call it a dining room. Her long, black tresses cascaded over her slim, bare shoulders and a vintage, sleeve-less ACDC shirt cut into a deep v-neck. Her dark, ripped skinny jeans and combat boots tied the whole look together. Everything about her screamed, ‘Dark! Rock ‘n’ Roll! I’m a BAMF!’ She looked like a scary biker who would kick a person’s arse if they even so much as glanced in her direction.

Merlin shrunk back into his skin, remembering that she in fact _could_ kick his arse. He noticed, however, that she was nowhere near being ready for opening the bar in less than thirty minutes. 

"Have you made sure every table is clean? I thought I saw a spot on table 24 earlier."

Merlin bowed his head. "I'll double check in just a moment." Just before his boss left to change her attire, he spoke up:  "Something going on? You seem a little--"

"High-strung?" Morgana supplied. “I know. There’s gonna be a huge--”

The phone in her office began to ring. She clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. “Just--get back to work.”

Merlin chuckled warily. "Will do..."

 

His eyes went wide; the pub was packed as Merlin walked out of the kitchen, gray tub in hand. A person was sitting at every single table, stool, ledge and then some. Men and women alike had pint after pint of all the beer you could think of. Shot glasses were strewn about on high table tops, martini glasses abandoned on the counter with olives still laying at the bottom. Patrons overflowed into the aisle ways and onto a makeshift dance floor, where a group of rowdy, and utterly hammered university students began some sort of hearty chant that sounded more like an incantation than anything else. All the TVs, in every corner of the room, was turned on and playing away different games of rugby. Some people were shouting at plays they deemed unfair, and some other cheered with intoxicated enthusiasm.

Merlin's face flushed red all the way down to his chest as he wondered _what the hell is going on_. He found Morgana slaving away behind bar, drink order after drink order coming one right after the other. When a moment presented itself, Merlin squeezed in to talk to his boss. He had to shout in order to be heard.

"'Scuse me, but--what is happening right now?"  

Morgana's brow furrowed. "Didn't I tell you?" She handed a wine glass to some lady who appeared to have no need for another lick of alcohol. Her voice was raised as well. "It's finals for rugby. Decided to make a pretty penny and have a half-off deal for anyone who comes in this weekend."

"You didn't tell me anything about this."

She frowned. "I'm sorry." Her voice was sympathetic as she corked a bottle of merlot. "Must've slipped my mind."

Merlin sighed. "It's fine, I just..." He rubbed a free hand through his hair. "I have to study for exams next week."

Morgana whipped around instantly, worry etched into the lines on her face. "I completely forgot! Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry. Maybe I can get--ah, shit!"

Merlin perked up. "What's wrong?"

The raven-haired woman bit her lip. "We're short-staffed tonight. Both Percy and Gwaine called in sick, and the Alya's maternity replacement isn't supposed to start until Monday. It's just us and Leon right now."

Merlin's nostrils flared.

"Sweetheart, I'm so terribly sorry, but there is absolutely no way I can let you go early tonight. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

Merlin rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, sure. Can you please try to pop me out of here by midnight?"

"Of course!"

 

Two A.M. rolled around before Merlin was even aware of it. As he begrudgingly ushered drunkards out the door, he muttered to himself, in a fit. Finally, he began to do his proper job of bussing tables, with much reluctance. Easily doing a hellish job, he did the bare minimum of cleaning the table tops and seats, eager to get out of that dark and stingy pub.

At the last table, much to Merlin's chagrin, slumped over, was an intoxicated man with a mess of blond hair atop his head. Merlin rolled his eyes and roused the man awake.

"Alright, bud, we're closing up shop. Better get going." He didn't bother with niceties.

The man gazed up at Merlin in a daze; his hair was unkempt, and it seemed to Merlin he had gone a few days without shaving. His shirt was quite possibly three days old, given the amount of wrinkles and slight scent that it gave off. Merlin wrinkled his nose in disgust.

A moment had passed, yet the man still said nothing. Merlin, becoming more pissed off than he already was, inhaled sharply. "Right, listen, pal: I need you to leave so _I_ can leave. I've got better things to do than wait on your mug. I would kindly appreciate it if you would slide out of this booth right here, and exit through the doors all the way," Merlin pointed a finger down to the other side of the building, "over there. Could you do that for me?"

The blond-haired man blinked at Merlin slowly, a glaze in his eyes. Merlin-clearly exasperate-ran a hand through his hair.

Finally the stubborn git decided to respond. "How about..." his words were crisp and concise, "you piss off? Could you do that for me?" Merlin was taken aback.  _He's not drunk_.

"And while we're at it," the man continued, standing from his tiny hiding spot, "we're not pals. Nor are we 'buds,' as you so eloquently put it." The man stood to full height, and he was much taller than expected; granted he seemed to be the same height as Merlin, but he himself was by no means short, and so Merlin found himself straightening his back defensively. "Got that?"

Merlin clenched his teeth before speaking. "Yeah, yeah. 'Course." He stepped back and went to pivot on his heel but stopped himself. "I mean, how could I be friends with a person such as yourself."

The man's eyebrows shot up suspiciously. "Someone such as myself?"

"Yeah," the dark-haired boy stated. "A prat."

The last thing Merlin remembered was deep hearty chuckle before he was pummeled to the ground.

 


	2. The Knight's Table Isn't Made For Fist Fights

The throbbing in Merlin’s head was almost as awful as him having to memorize the seventy chemistry terms for his biochem class. Even without the the pain in his head, Merlin could barely see out of his right eye. He had long ago tossed away his sunglasses hiding the gruesome shiner in an attempt to better read his textbook. He sipped on his piping hot latte half-heartedly as he waited on his ‘study-buddy’.

“Sweetie, you look absolutely abysmal.” Gwen sat down with ease, two sturdy textbooks slamming on the table in front of her.

Merlin let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “You haven’t even seen the worst of it yet.” He adjusted himself so he looked her straight on. It took a moment for her to even look up from her books to see the damage.

“Jesus, Merlin! Are you alright?” Gwen laid a hand on the side of his face, examining every cut and scrape. Merlin simpered at her doting, motherly nature.

“You should see the other guy,” the dark-haired boy replied half-heartedly. 

Gwen, studying be damned, tutted over the dark and swollen patches of skin, muttering things such as, “My sweet Merlin, who could ever do this to you,” and “I’ll have someone’s head for this,” along with many other similar sentiments.

Merlin, ever so gently, swatted Gwen’s hands away and held them in his own.

“I appreciate this so very much,” Merlin said with utmost sincerity, “but maybe we should do this later. Not where everyone can see me looking like some… beat-up twink.”

Gwen held her hands up in surrender. “Hey, your words--not mine.”

“You would’ve said it eventually.”

Gwen only rolled her eyes, but settled back into her seat. Merlin, grateful for the new space in front of him, sat forward; he hadn’t realized that he leaned away from Gwen’s advances.

“Seriously, Merlin, who did this to you? I’m just-- I’m just  _ baffled _ at the thought of someone hitting my sweet little ray of sunshine.”

Merlin chuckled. Her pet name for him was rather ridiculous, yet he always found it to be endearing. “Really, Guinevere, it’s not that big of a deal. The bloke seemed like he had a hot temper anyways--I could’ve said anything to him and he would’ve done the exact same thing.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “You two spoke to each other?”

Merlin nodded.

“I suppose you would like to indulge me and tell me what words had been exchanged?”

“Eh, not really,” he shrugged jokingly.

“Keep it up and I’ll give you another shiner to match the one on the left there.” She picked up Merlin’s latte and took a swig.

“It’s my right eye, actually.”

“Alright, now you’re really asking for it,” Gwen laughed, kicking him lightly in the shin.

“Ah!” Merlin screamed in mock-surprise. “Okay, okay!”

Guinevere shook her head, but waited patiently.

“I told him he needed to leave the bar last night because it was closing time and he got defensive. Then he slugged my right here.” Merlin pointed right to his cheekbone.

By the set in her jaw, Merlin could tell she didn’t believe him. She crossed her arms over her chest, disbelief etched all over her face. Merlin squirmed in his seat at the silence.

“Okay, so I may not have been all that polite when telling him to leave. It was pretty late, after all.”

Gwen remained silent.

“ _ And _ I may have called him a prat when he didn’t leave… But only after he told me to piss off!”

Guinevere, ever the pacifist, made a face only she could make. The face of disappointment. “Merlin,” she started slowly. “Please don’t tell me Morgana knows about this. At the very least, she’s heard your side of the story first.”

Merlin worried his lip between his teeth. “I, uh… kind of don’t remember anything after the first blow.” He found himself rubbing the back of his neck with his hand nervously. Merlin looked towards Gwen, who had her face in her hands. 

She peered at the mess of a boy that sat across from her. “What am I going to do with you?”

 

“Define polysaccharide.”

Gwen dabbed at Merlin’s face with a warm cloth, laptop and textbooks arranged neatly to her side.

“It’s, uh, a polymer of a carbohydrate.”

“Can you give an example?”

“Uh, starch and cellulose.”

“Define… lipids.”

Merlin opened his mouth, but winced in pain as his friend turned back around and wiped at his head with a new cloth. “Christ! That hurt!”

“Probably hurt less than the swing to the head,” Gwen chided.

Merlin silently agreed with her. The throbbing inside his brain had finally died a few hours ago, but he still had the occasional sting every so often. “What was it again?”

“Lipids.”

“Right, um. Lipids are molecules that provide long-term energy, hormones, and uh…”

“Insulation, Merlin. Now,” she pressed the cold and stinging cloth to his head again, “what are lipids made up of?”

“That would be glycer-” a ringtone chimed away, interrupting Merlin mid-sentence. “That’s me,” Merlin groaned, reaching into his pocket. After glancing at the caller ID the dark-haired boy groaned some more and answered with an extremely enthusiastic--and extremely forced--smile. “Morgana!”

“Merlin.” 

A shiver was sent down Merlin’s spine. He had never felt more afraid of his boss than he did in that moment.

“Did you really harass a patron at my bar?”

His heart leapt into his throat.

“Uh, no, I didn’t harass anyone. I, uh, just--”

“Merlin, I promise you if you’re lying to me, you will not like the consequences.”

Merlin’s mouth gaped open like a helpless goldfish; he tried to say something coherent but nothing came out. He began to stutter profusely, mind befuddled. His thoughts were racing, spiraling:  _ I could lose my job, I’ll have no money to pay for my share of the flat, I’ll get kicked out and won’t be able to afford living space so I’ll be homeless.  _ He looked at Gwen nervously, whose brow was deeply furrowed.

“M-Morgana, I-I promise-- I swear th-that I didn’t--”

“Merlin!” She shouted over his worrying. “I’m just messing with you.”

The boy’s heart almost stopped. “What?

“Just mucking about. I couldn’t help it. Sorry.”

Merlin bit back the urge to scream. 

“Seriously though, could I have you come by in about ten?”

“Ten--ten minutes?” He was still having a difficult time catching his breath. “Um, yeah, I can do that.”

“Fantastic! See you soon. So sorry again.” Morgana hung up abruptly. Merlin stared at his phone, flabbergasted. After several painstakingly long seconds, he glanced up at an expectant Gwen.

“Are you fired?” 

Merlin inhaled deeply, confusion and left-over fear consuming his thoughts. “I don’t think so? She wants me to come down in ten minutes, though, and I have no clue as to why that is.”

Guinevere appeared as perplexed as Merlin felt. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Merlin shook his head. “I think I should be fine. I’ll call and let you know if we need to go drinking tonight. Just--not at the same bar.”


	3. Different As Night And Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin discovers the new grubby blond boy has a name and that the boy is actually not that horrible (maybe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii I am aware that it's a little short, but I wanted to get it out before you had to wait too long for a little fill chapter. <3 You guys will soon find out why Arthur is a messy boi and a bunch of other stuff, I just gotta get writing. Thank you for all the love so far!

The dim atmosphere somehow seemed more sinister in the daytime, with a lack of customers and constant silence. Merlin crept around to the back of the pub, butterflies fluttering throughout his stomach in an extremely unpleasant sort of way. Morgana was sat in her chair, just outside her office, cell phone in hand, typing away. Merlin stopped a good one and a half yards away from her and cleared his throat.

Morgana looked for a source of the sound and smiled gently. “Merlin!”

“Morgana.” He glanced around, nerves tingling all over his skin. “So, uh…” He swallowed. “Am I in trouble or…?”

Morgana gave that sympathetic and pitying half-smile only she could create. “Ah, Merlin.” She stood, walked over to the boy, and pinched his cheek like his mother did. “Sweet, Merlin.” She gave his cheek a solid  _ pat-pat _ . “You’re not in trouble. Far from it, in fact. I have someone here to  _ apologize  _ to you.” She directed that last sentence to her office door.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Apologize-?”

His sentence fell short when he saw a frighteningly familiar mess of blond hair pop of Morgana’s office and he froze.

Morgana said something to the loathsome piece of garbage stood before them and he came forward, a set in his jaw. When he drew close enough he stopped and held his hands diplomatic in front of himself. He still looked like a complete bum, with unkempt hair and a dark shadow on his cheeks. But he had changed his clothes, so Merlin gave him some credit.

“Well, go on,” Morgana motioned impatiently. “Say you’re sorry.”

The man closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He spoke slowly, awkwardly, around the--probably unfamiliar--words on his tongue. “I am-- _ sorry _ \--for treating you the way I did. It was cruel and… uncalled for. I should have behaved more respectfully, and I… hope that--your face is, um. Okay.”

Merlin let the silence settle in as he glanced between his boss and his literal assailant standing just a few steps away from him. It took an eternity before his lips began to work again. Even then, he could’ve chose something better and more useful to say.

“Sorry, I’m just--how do you know him?”

The blond guy rolled his eyes.

“Arthur? He’s my brother.”

Merlin stood agape. “Brother? But you--you look  _ nothing _ alike.”

“Same father, different mothers, you…” Arthur trailed off when Morgana sent him a look.

“He’s my half-brothe--it’s a  _ long _ story… but he should  _ know _ by now that punching my employees isn’t something I’m too keen on. He’s so easily aggravated, you wouldn’t believe.”

“Still here,” Arthur sighed, looking off into the distance, his demeanor undisputedly unamused.

Morgana ignored him. “So, I know it’s not much, but I hope his apology helps a little bit. After all, he gave you an awful black eye.”

Merlin shook his head, trying to clear up his thoughts. “Uh, Morgana, I appreciate this, truly, but I don’t think it was  _ only _ Arthur’s fault, I mean, I  _ was _ there--”

“Merlin, you’re just being modest,” she clucked. “My dear brother has always had something of a temper; don’t you worry your pretty little head by trying to take some of the heat.” 

Morgana’s phone chimed; she quickly checked the message on her screen. “That’s Gus with the shipment. I’ll check in on you two in a moment!”

She hurried off.

Arthur shot Merlin an annoyed look, yet the dark-haired boy only shrugged with a shit-eating grin. “Guess I’ll have to accept your apology.”

Arthur’s mouth twisted up into a corner. “I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“I didn’t appreciate your fist in my face.”

“I’m gonna show you it again if you keep up this inane act!”

“Please do!” Merlin grinned. “I’d love to see the repercussions.”

Arthur balled his hands into fists by his side instead of saying anything else that could get him into more trouble. “What,” he began, “can I do to get you to forgive me?”

Merlin pondered for a moment, an impish delight etched into his features. “Why don’t you... introduce yourself? Formally.” 

His childish demeanor dropped; he had used up all of his male bravado for the next twenty-three years. “You seem to know an awful lot about me, but... I didn’t know you even existed until less than twenty-four hours ago. What do you say?” Merlin proffered his hand.

Arthur composed himself before whispering some words under his breath. He almost reluctantly took Merlin’s hand in his own, plastered on an incredibly devilish smile and shaked firmly. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Merlin. I’m Arthur Pendragon, Morgana’s mess of a half-brother.”

 


	4. Let's Agree to Disagree (or, Exams Are The Devil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin takes his exams, and sometimes it gets to him. He goes to get a drink, which is something he doesn't usually do. However, things unfold after his third or fourth beverage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes hello lovelies I am in awe at how many of you like this omg. sorry for the late update, but it's here now! so I'm trying to retain as much of that banter between merlin and arthur as possible bc that's one of my favorite things from the show so yeah anyways enjoy thank you so so much ahhhh xx

The days following that interaction were a bit--unusual to say the least. Arthur began showing up to the pub more frequently, typically per Morgana’s request, yet that still threw Merlin off. Something didn’t seem quite right. Merlin, ever the curious individual, couldn’t help but wonder if the blond guy had some sort of secret agenda against him. When he confided in Gwen about it, she only shook her head and told him he needed to “stop worrying so much, it will honestly be the death of you.”

Merlin showed up to the pub--right after one especially rough exam--for a drink. Morgana, ever so gracious, had let him take a few days off so he could have enough time for resting in between his testing, yet when he showed up, she appeared perplexed.

“Merlin?”

He smiled weakly her way. “Just needed a pint. Maybe something stronger. Really strong.”

“Ooh. Had a doozy, then?”

Merlin chuckled, sitting a stool in the center of the bar. “That’s one way to describe it.”

“Which class?” Morgana queried, mixing a drink immediately.

“Organic chemistry, of all things.” The dark-haired man shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t _really_ care on whether I passed or not. I’m just ecstatic that I never have to deal with that class or that damn professor again.” Merlin rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Dear God, why would you take that class? Isn’t that supposed to be one of the hardest subjects to study?” Morgana set a martini glass in front of Merlin; it was absolutely drenched in chocolate. He didn’t bother asking what was in it. He took a swig from the glass and winced at the high-proof alcohol stinging his throat.

“It pretty much is. It sucks… but I have to take it in order to get my degree. I guess it’s kind of my fault for taking this at the same time as biochem.”

“Oh, Merlin, why would you do that to yourself?”

“They go hand-in-hand, so I thought it would make more sense if I took both at the same time!”

Morgana shook her head with a certain look Merlin couldn’t quite pinpoint. Suddenly, he was very exhausted. Merlin chalked it up to crashing relief of finally finishing that God-awful class. In that moment, he found himself unable to even think of much else. He went silent for so long, Morgana noticed.

“I think this is the longest I’ve been in a room with you without you talking. I don’t know if I’m honored or worried.”

Merlin shrugged her comment off with a nonchalant answer, unable to stir himself from the tired, yet ecstatic, reverie. The dark-haired woman took his answer with an amused understanding and quieted herself, continuing to silently clean and stock shelves. Unfortunately, the (woeful) biology major’s little moment of bliss wouldn’t last forever. Arthur burst through the pub doors with such ferocity that they hit the walls with a sickening _thwack_ ; if he didn’t know any better, Merlin would’ve believed the heavy doors had splintered.

With an overstated huff, the blond-haired man plopped himself on a stool several spaces away from Merlin.

“Scotch. On the rocks.”

Morgana appeared to whisper something under her breath, yet went about making the drink.

Arthur held his head in his hands, a groan emanating from under the shaggy blond hair of his. Merlin, bemused, turned in his seat, surveying the man sitting several feet away from him. He nursed on his drink through the little straw Morgana had provided as he put together a few pieces. Then, he smiled at Arthur, starting to feel some alcohol going to his head.

“Bad exam, eh?”

The blond man grunted in response.

“You and me both, mate.” He didn’t wait for some sort of rebuttal to that, and he didn’t receive one. The three continued on in a silence for a long while, the only sounds coming from the radio and the tv in the corner. Merlin had had two more drinks by the time Arthur had finished staring down into his first.

“You’re s’pposed t’ drink it…” Merlin giggled, giddy from the alcohol pumping in his system.

Arthur seemed to broken out of a daze at what Merlin said and knocked back the drink vehemently. He pulled out his wallet and slapped a crumpled bill on the counter. “For the wonderful service provided.”

“Wonderful? I didn’t even speak to you.”

“Exactly,” Arthur agreed with fervor.

Morgana rolled her eyes playfully. Something passed on her face, but Merlin didn’t notice. He was just happy to be sipping away at a new fruity cocktail as Morgana pulled her brother in to whisper in his ear. Arthur shrugged his jacket on slowly, glanced over at Merlin--who waved like a child--and nodded with a grimace. He came over to Merlin and clapped a calloused hand on Merlin’s slim shoulders.

“Alright, it’s time to go home.”

Merlin made a move like he might protest, but before he could, Arthur pinched his lips shut, and peered deep into his glazed over eyes.

“I’m taking you home whether you like it or not. C’mon,” He motioned with his hand, watching baffled amusement as Merlin stumbled off the chair. “Bit of a light-weight, are we?”

Merlin shooed the blond-haired man’s comment away with the flick of his wrist. He managed to put himself upright, although when he took one step forward, he nearly collided with a nearby wall.

Arthur, simultaneously annoyed and entertained, grabbed Merlin by the arm and wrapped it around his own broad shoulders to keep the buffoon from toppling over again. Somehow, the pair made it to the waiting sports car in the parking lot. After unlocking it, the blond shoved the brunet into the passenger seat, made his way to driver’s side and started up the engine.

Merlin, unphased, grabbed his seatbelt and yanked it with the force of a five year old. Arthur couldn’t help another eye-roll, though he chuckled, as he transitioned the car into drive.

The bleary-eyed boy took in his surroundings--as best as he could. “How d’ you have sucha nice car?” Merlin slurred.

“Shut up,”

“Okay,” he mumbled daftly.

The drive didn’t last too long, since the flat wasn’t too far from the pub. Morgana’s directions had been clear enough, yet when they got to the complex, the dark-haired man had to give his own directions (“Yeah, it’s um… som’where. With’a four. Fourteen C. Yeah, sounds right.”). Once they had reached the door to his flat, Merlin fumbled with his key for a solid minute and half before Arthur intervened (“I’ll bloody do it, you bloody idiot.”). He wrestled the chain from the drunken one’s prying fingers and slipped the right key into the lock. Arthur pushed the door open and aided Merlin into a standing position.

In the living room, Arthur set Merlin down on the couch haphazardly and left without a word. Or, at least he wanted to.

Before he could get too far away the dark-haired-drunken mess reached out to pull on the blond man’s shirt.

“What?” He snapped.

Merlin didn’t appear to notice the sharp tone. “D’ you think could wai’ around, jus’ until my roommate gets back? Round four? There’ll be a fit if I don’ ‘ave someone here.”

Arthur inhaled deeply and thought to himself for a moment. “Alright. But I’m doing this for Morgana, not you.” His tone was final; even through his drunkenness, Merlin could infer that much.

The two sat together in silence, as Merlin tried to find a comfortable position to curl up into on the couch. Arthur chewed on his fingernails and looked at the clock on his phone every two minutes, hoping that time would pass faster. Soon, he couldn’t bear much more.

Once the blond was certain that the rowdy, annoying, good-for-nothing man in front of him had fallen asleep, he carefully pulled himself up from the rigid table chair and crept to the door. At least, he desperately wanted that to happen.

Much to Arthur’s chagrin, there was a jangle of keys intermixing and sliding into the lock, and he hastily sat back down, feeling caught in the act. He feigned his best nonchalance for Merlin’s roommate, used to the feeling of a façade. The man pivoted in his seat, a friendly comment on his tongue when he noticed _who_ walked in the door.

“Guinevere?”

Her face dropped in recognition. “How _the fuck_ did you get in my house?”

Arthur started an argument, yet was cut off.

“You know what? I don’t care. I was wondering, though, whose shithole of a car was sitting in _my_ _parking spot_. Guess I should’ve known. You always loved Aston Martins more than me.”

“More than you?! If I do recall correctly, _you_ left _me_! For another woman!” Arthur was seething. He closed the space between them, although keeping himself at stage whisper out of courtesy.

“Oh, be honest with yourself, Arthur, did you ever see us going anywhere? I don’t think you can say we were destined to be together! Beside, that girl was a bust--reminded me too much of you. Suppose I have a type. Unfortunately it’s small-minded, egotistical brats who won’t let go of daddy’s money.”

Arthur didn’t take that comment too seriously as he started up again. “Guinevere, I’d highly suggest you keep comments like that to yourself. And now isn’t the time to fight things out, all right? If you could just-”

“Gwen? Arthur? What’s going on?”

Arthur steeled himself and turned on his heel to see a rather dopey-looking Merlin. He stood a few feet behind the feud and had hardly wrapped himself up in an afghan, and his hair stuck up in every which way. The blond was too shaken to even think about laughing at the other man’s disheveled appearance.

Gwen, however, was quite appalled at her flatmate’s state of appearance.

“Merlin, babe, what’s happened?”

He didn’t answer. He seemed to be staring at something off into the distance, so Arthur explained.

“He was at the pub after some exam, I guess, and got absolutely plastered. Morgana asked me to drive him home.”

Guinevere didn’t seem to believe him. “Why would Morgana ask you to do something like that?”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Because she’s my sister…? I mean, I know we don’t _look_ much alike, but someone’s bound to realize she’s on the news with my-”

“Sister?!” Gwen laughed. “ _Of fucking course_! Your sister!”

Arthur became more puzzled by the second. “... _Yes_ , my sister. Is there a problem?”

She tittered hysterically, a palm pressed to her forehead as she paced the kitchenette. “No, of course not! It’s not like--ugh!” Her hair fell into her eyes, as she looked more frazzled with each passing thought. “ _Jesus Christ_ it’s like I _never_ get away from you people!”

“What is that even supposed to-?”

“Get out! I need you to get out of this God damn flat before I pop a blood vessel.” Gwen pushed him toward the door roughly and opened it.

“But Merlin-”

“I’ll deal with him!” She huffed stray curls out of her face and shoved the blond out the door. “I would say it was nice seeing you again, but I’ve never been a fan of lying. Now _leave._ ”

With that, Guinevere slammed the door centimeters from Arthur’s nose. He was tempted to knock again and demand what was whizzing through her mind, but thought better of it. Arthur ran his hands over his face, suddenly tired from the whole ordeal. After he collected his thoughts, he stalked off, shaking all the nerves from his body as he went.

Inside the flat, Gwen stood with her head in her hands. Merlin, however, stood on the opposite side of the counter and waited patiently.

Once she calmed down and counted to ten in both English and French, Gwen made an attempt to speak with Merlin.

“How do you know him, then? Do you just know him as Morgana’s brother?”

Merlin nodded enthusiastically. He should’ve stopped at that, but in his state, his conscience flew out the window. “Oh, and he was also th’ guy who beat me up.” He hiccupped. Gwen just about combusted.

“Merlin, I swear if _you_ \--”

“Oh, no…” Merlin held a hand to his mouth. He let out a muffled, “I’ll be back,” and rushed to the nearest toilet.

She stared after him pitifully, even when he was long out of sight. “Sweet Merlin, why did you have to do this?”

 


	5. All I Want For Christmas is Ewe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Christmas time approaches, Merlin reflects upon life at home, at university, and many other things. For some reason that pesky Pendragon guy sneaks into his thoughts, and Merlin hasn't the faintest idea as to why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii thanks for all the love everyone, this is so nice :'-) sorry for the long wait. just for some clarification, I know nothing about the English university education system, especially with such esteemed colleges as Cambridge University. I didn't really know what to look for in terms of research so my searches were very fruitless. I'm doing the best with my knowledge of American universities' style of schooling, so pls bear with me. If anyone could help me out, it would be much appreciated. All my love xxx

  Merlin, in the following weeks had vowed to the following three things:

 

  1. to never drink again,
  2. to choose his classes more carefully, and
  3. to never let Arthur Pendragon into his flat ever again.



 

The last one was per Guinevere’s request, but he had no trouble following it. After all, there wasn’t much of chance for that to ever happen again, because he’s already following the first two vows. Merlin showed up to work like normal, Arthur appeared here and there like normal, and Morgana gave Merlin a hard time like normal. 

There’s not much Merlin can remember from that awfully drunken night, other than the smell of Arthur’s strong cologne and lying on the bathroom floor. He kept asking Gwen and she kept giving vague answers. “I’m not a fan of that Pendragon git,” and “Liquor is not your strong suit.” Eventually he decided it wasn’t worth pursuing anymore.

On a chilly walk home from the pub, the neighbourhood cat crossed his path, meowing ferociously. 

“Hello, Mordred,” he sighed pitifully. As much as the cat was a bother, he hated seeing a domestic creature having to survive on its own in the snowy, disgusting English weather. When he could, Merlin would pull out scraps of leftover lunch from his pack and give it to the long-haired, black cat. Unfortunately, that grew to Mordred attaching himself to Merlin anytime he walked by. This time around, he had no scraps to proffer.

“Sorry, little one,” he patted its head. “Maybe next time.”

The cat meowed in protest and Merlin shrugged, as if having a conversation. He started up again on his walk home, leaving the cat circling around the nearby foliage.

When Merlin first got a job at the pub, in the beginning of the school year, he loved taking a timely stroll to and from the pub to the flat. It cleared his mind and allowed him to appreciate the sights and the sounds of the city life around him. Cambridge was much different from his hometown in the middle of nowhere, as well as London, which is a place he visited often. Although, London was a different story. There was something about Cambridge; something about its history and old buildings, mixed with modern revisions, that really made Merlin think there was something almost magical about the city. 

However, in the dead of winter, Merlin was beginning to regret it. More so, he was regretting the fact that he had not bought a car. The wind buffeted Merlin to and fro, half snow-half sleet blinding him to the point where he considered buying ski goggles. Lest he wanted to look like a complete buffoon, he decided against the goggles; he’d rather be blind and normal than clear-eyed and idiotic. 

Merlin successfully made it back to his flat, no matter how wet or snowy. On the inside of the complex, decorations lined the the ceilings and railings, with wreaths resting on doors and patches of mistletoe hung from open doorways. A tiny, tinny radio played out certain Christmas songs ranging from pop hits to traditional carols. The complex in itself was in no-way fully Christmas-spirited; however, the inhabitants--at least, those who celebrate--were in horribly festive dispositions. So much so it was almost as intoxicating as a strong cognac: a reasonable amount could be easily taken, but if one were to down the whole bottle, one would certainly want to vomit all over the sickeningly red and green decor. 

Merlin’s flat itself was quite barren. The only thing resembling Christmas was the sad Charlie Brown tree in the corner, with three baubles hanging from it’s sickly branches. He smiled at the tree proudly, a relief flooding through his chest. Unlike the rest of the building, Merlin could breathe in his flat and  _ not _ cough up a lung from the intense pine scent. Merlin peeled off the wet coat from his back, fully ready for a nice warm shower, complete with a loofah, when he noticed a pale figure on the sofa. 

“ _ Oh, Jesus _ !” Merlin, flabbergasted held his hands in front of his line of vision. “Gwaine! Why are you naked and in my flat?”

Gwaine shot up. “ _ Merlinnn! _ Mate, how I’ve missed you!” 

The wild-haired man, in his eternally drunken state, missed Merlin’s social cue and began to approach the bewildered student before him.  

“GwaineGwaineGwaine! Put--some clothes--on,” Merlin begged.

Gwaine feigned innocence. “Wha’? I can’t hear you when your hands in you face.” He grabbed his hand and pulled it down to normal level. “Alright, what do you need to say to me?”

Merlin pulled his hand back to his eyes. “Why are you here? And why aren’t you clothed?” He was near hysterics.

“Aww, come one! I’m finally back from my trip and you don’t even want to hug me? You’re worried about clothes?”

“And I wish you would be, too!”

“Merlin,” cried Gwaine, “clothes are such a restriction to everyday life! You really learn to accept yourself in the nude.”

“Oh, yeah, where did you learn that? Botswana?”

“Well, yes, actually.”

“Will you just-” Merlin huffed, stalking to the couch, “-put a modesty blanket on,  _ at least _ .” He thrusted one of the afghans at him; Gwaine, athletic as ever, caught it with ease. Now with a covered lower half, the curly-haired man perched himself up on a nearby table.

“Mate, when are you  _ ever _ going to release those inhibitions? When are you going to feel the rain on your skin?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re quoting song lyrics at me right now.”

“Well, to each his own.”

Merlin’s brows skewered, a questioning tone in his voice. “That’s  _ not _ how that--nevermind. Will you please answer my question?”

“About the nudity? I’m pretty sure I’ve already done that.”

“I meant about  _ how you got in my house _ .”

“Ah, that.” Gwaine chuckled, scruffing a hand through his beard. “I still have a spare, and I figured why not give my two oldest friends a surprise.”

Merlin, still very aware of Gwaine’s very  _ bare _ , very  _ tanned _ , very  _ sculpted _ skin, swallowed thickly. “Did you have to be naked?”

Gwaine shrugged nonchalantly. 

A key jangled in the lock, and both of the men knew what this meant, though Merlin was slow to stop Gwaine.

As the door opened to reveal a snowy Gwen, Gwaine bounded around the corner, arms open wide.

“Guinevere, how I’ve missed you!”

She smiled wide. “Gwaine!” Her eyes didn’t take that long to catch up with the sight in front of her. “Oh,  _ my God _ !”

\---

The three laughed jovially, each face turning a brighter shade of red. 

“What about--what about the old Dutch lady with the clogs?” Gwen asked, in between giggles.

“Her? Hand to God, the second she saw me get on that boat in the canal, she threw every pair she could at me.”

Gwen cackled, her hand to her chest. Merlin--still unbelieving--queried further. “Okay, but--how many pairs?”

“Oh, I’d say eight or nine  _ at least _ . And maybe three individual shoes hit my head.”

“Lord, I hope that didn’t mess you up more than you already are!”

Gwaine ran a hand through his hair, a daring smile on his lips. “Messed up? Better believe that I’m far from it. I’m practically perfect, in every way… or, so they say.”

Gwen added on: “Does each virtue virtually know no bound?”

The curly-haired man quirked an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

Merlin and Guinevere exchanged glances. 

“You’ve been making an awfully high amount of musical references tonight. Care to explain?”

Gwaine appeared perplexed.

Merlin continued next. “You know… that was  _ Mary Poppins _ … a few minutes ago you made a reference to us living a  _ hard-knock life _ …?”

The two of them stared at Gwaine for longer than needed, hoping to coax an answer out. Much to their dismay, Gwaine looked on, confused as ever. 

“I guess,” Gwen sighed, “the clogs really  _ have _ done some damage, haven’t they?”

The three friends went into an uproar again, with Merlin hiding his laughter behind his hand and Gwaine not-so-threateningly threatening Gwen for her commentary while she stood solidly in her opinion. The group continued well into the night, exchanging stories and anecdotes from the past eleven months of separation as well as old retellings that were much needed. Only a few times, did Merlin’s mind drift off to the blond guy, Morgana’s brother,  _ Arthur _ .

_ There’s something off about him _ , Merlin had thought to himself,  _ and I can’t put my finger on it _ .

Merlin did his best to shake the almost-stranger from his thoughts. He couldn’t, however, think of any sort of reason as to  _ why  _ Arthur had invaded his head. He barely spoke, and when he did, he sounded much more authoritative than he looked. He looked like a drunk, but he didn’t act like a drunk. He was around the pub, but never anywhere on campus--or at least from what Merlin could tell. Maybe that was what it was. Merlin was intrigued because he couldn’t figure it out--because Arthur was an enigma of sorts.

Merlin shook his head vigorously. He steered away from those thoughts of the big, blond, air-headed bitch that consumed him. Instead, he focused solely back on Gwen and Gwaine. Their stories were certainly more entertaining and less confusing than the unfriendly Arthur Pendragon.

\--

In Middle-Of-Nowhere, England, Merlin sat with his mother--both of them teetering towards the warmth of the hearth, but neither pretending to notice the other shivering in their thin jumpers. They each held a mug of piping hot tea straight from the kettle. Merlin found over the past few years that complaining less meant less pain on his mother. 

As a child, he hadn’t know any better. After Merlin’s father left, their lives weakened immensely. With no man on the farm, it was extremely difficult to get things done normally, let alone quickly. Often, during his youth, Merlin felt as if he were the main character of  _ Jack and the Beanstalk _ ; every once in a while Hunith would take Merlin out to the closest barn on their land and have him sell a different animal--one’s they could profit off of, while trying to maintain the farm’s ecosystem. Sadly, Merlin had never procured any magic beans on his trips to the market. 

However, once he had hit puberty--or, once he had started to gain muscle mass and a height advantage--Merlin was able to do the heavy lifting and arduous work Hunith had been killing herself over year after year. Not to say, of course, that his mother was weak. In fact, his mother was the strongest woman Merlin knew; yet, the strain of continuous labor, single motherhood, and financial instability wore at her bones. By the time she was thirty-five, Hunith couldn’t stand for longer than fifteen minutes without getting winded.

Around the age of fourteen, he had already surpassed his mother’s height, and he didn’t stop growing for the next five years. Certainly, Merlin’s build wouldn’t have allow him to get too big--he was too tall for that. What happened was that Merlin learned to use his gangly, unruly limbs to his advantage. He learned to adapt with what he had. In the barn, and in the fields, Merlin had acquired a delicate grace no one could understand, because in the house, if anything was in his arm’s reach, it was bound to wind up broken. 

Naturally, as time progressed, Merlin learned that most holidays would have homemade gifts (wool jumpers) or no gifts. However, one year, when he was about eleven, Hunith was able to scrape up enough money to get something for him.

“I know it’s not much, but I thought it was just adorable. Something you can keep with you at times we’re not around each other, maybe. Or, not. You are growing into a young man, after all, and may not want it.”

He let his mother ramble on without question.

“Anyway… Here you are.”

From behind her back, she pulled out a little sheep plushie, no wrapping except for a singular, plain bow wrapped around its middle. Merlin gingerly grasped for the toy, worried that his (quite gangly) fingers would somehow ruin something so sweet, so precious. The fabric was almost silky underneath his fingertips. The young boy ran his hands over the tiny sheep, whom had an impish smile, until he felt something bumpy on the underside.

Merlin checked the sheep’s stomach to read an inscription that appeared to be hand-stitched in. ‘ _ I love ewe’.  _

The boy smiled. He glanced back up to his waiting mother. “Thanks, mum. It’s amazing.”

Hunith straightened out, a new gleam in her eyes. “Really?”

Merlin nodded slowly. “ _ Really _ , really.”

The upturn of her mouth let him know she was glad.

“I’m gonna put this in my room.”

 

Merlin thought back to where that sheep currently sat: on the windowsill, in his flat. It watched over his bed every night, which was a comfort in those first few weeks while he was at university. A reminder that his mother was merely a phone call or a car ride away.

Back at the fireplace, Merlin’s mug burned his hands, but he welcomed the warmth. The two had just reached a lull in their conversation between uni tales and farming news. A couple of minutes passed before either of them spoke again, and it was Hunith who had posed the question. Truth be told, they had been avoiding the topic all evening, Merlin carefully skirting around the subject when he sensed its presence; however, this time, he couldn’t stop the directness of his curious mother.

“So… this  _ Guinevere _ … is she your girlfriend?”

The dark-haired man chuckled with a  hint of a sigh, working his jaw. “I, um--” he cleared his throat, “--no. Gwen is not my girlfriend.”

Hunith pursed her lips playfully, which she hid behind the hot mug (which her son still easily saw). “... Are you certain?”

“Yes, mum! Will you drop it, please?” Merlin ran his hand over his face, tired.

His wiry mother tittered happily, yet let it go.

The son inhaled deeply and exhaled another--longer--sigh. This time, he stood up, bid his mother goodnight with a kiss on the cheek, and headed for his room. As Merlin dressed for bed, he couldn’t help but feel a heavy weight in his stomach. He never minded his mother’s teasing, nor the way she did it. The incessant teasing is what got to him. Well, that, and the fact the his mother doesn’t know his biggest secret. 

Merlin thought back to that little sheep in his flat on the windowsill, the ewe. He also thought about the tiny flag flying next to it, filled with all the colors of the rainbow… And he sighed, for what felt like the trillionth time that night.

The sheets were icy on his exposed skin, but nothing compared to the frozen iron in his gut. Merlin laid in bed and felt himself fall deeper into the mattress, teeming with dread. Dread about then, and dread about the future, and dread about the happy little pride flag standing tall in his room in Cambridge. Lastly, he felt dread about that bugger of a blond and what he made Merlin feel. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol so btw, I've been working on this chapter for weeks to make it just right--I apologize right now if there are any errors, bc I couldn't stand having no update when I have work I can put out. ANYWAYS. hope you enjoyed. tried to make it longer. xx


	6. The Stoke of Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NYE party at the MerGwen flat that may have some interesting twists ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!! in my typical fashion, it has been months since I last uploaded and for that I apologize. anyways, I had intentions of uploading this before the new year, however I was side tracked lmao. also thank y'all for the near 1200 hits??? and the near 80 kudos??? this means so much to me you have no idea. thank you so much, babes xx
> 
> ALSO IT'S MY BIRTHDAY SO HAPPY BIRTHDAY/HOLIDAYS UPLOAD HERE'S TO A GOOD 2019 MWAH

Merlin didn’t quite like to admit it, but being at home—while it had been uneventful at in the most boring way possible—was the best he’d felt in a long while. At his return back to university, he found himself longing for the English countryside. 

The dark-haired man had been glad, though, to return to his shared flat. Guinevere had stayed there over break, so Merlin was determined to give her an extremely fun New Years experience.

From the living room came a swell of music, where he only assumed Gwen had been. Merlin walked in to find not only his flatmate, but Gwaine as well. The two of them were in the middle of hanging some lights around the ceiling. At that moment, he noticed that the flat was much more festive than normal. Gwen stood on the step stool, arms reaching high above her head, setting lights in the hooks the two had previously put on the wall. 

Merlin watched the both of them bicker for a moment before interjecting.

“What’s going on?”

Guinevere turned suddenly, narrowing in on her flatmate. “Oh, hi, Merlin! We’re getting ready for New Years.”

Gwaine nodded along.

“Here I am thinking I needed to come home and give my lonely friend some comfort,” Merlin chuckled. “Guess you two have been having a fun time?”

“It  _ would _ be fun if a certain someone didn’t insist that she hang the lights despite her being much smaller than a certain someone  _ else _ ,” Gwaine put pointedly, pursing his lips. 

 Gwen made a face. “Only after a certain someone was hanging them all willy-nilly, with  _ no  _ consistency  _ whatsoever _ .”

“Willy-nilly, eh?”

“Oh, shut it, Merlin.”

The brunet smiled wide. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?”

Both of his friends shook their heads. 

“Too little, too late, mate. We’re done after all these fairy lights are put up. If that will ever happen.” Gwaine added the last part as an aside, to which Merlin chortled.

Gwen only tutted and continued her work. Gwaine sent Merlin a conspiratorial wink and held onto the lights steadfast. 

Merlin shook his head once more, escaping to his room; he didn’t want to be there when whatever Gwaine was planning went down.

 

Hors d'oeuvres and various party knick-knacks had spread themselves across the flat. The liquor cabinet had been stocked so full that bottles were overflowing onto other nearby surfaces. People had started arriving about a half hour before, but Gwen still seemed anxious. Merlin approached her cautiously.

“You okay, babe?”

Gwen snapped up from her intense reverie. “Yeah, yeah, I um… Well, no actually.”

She stopped talking, leaving Merlin tensely waiting.

“... Do I have to force it out of you? What’s wrong?”

The poor girl glanced between Merlin and the floor several times before mustering up the courage to say what was on her mind.

“Merlin… you know that girl I’ve been seeing?”

He nodded.

“And how I haven’t told you much about her?”

He nodded again, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Well, um. I invited her over.”

Merlin’s mouth split into a grin. “Gwen, that’s fantastic! I’d love to meet her… Why are you so nervous about it?”

Guinevere made a face. “It’s just that you kind of already know her.” 

He tilted his head to the side, not quite latching on to what his flatmate was telling him. “Wh-”

“Guinevere!” A voice shouted from behind the dark-haired man. 

He turned around to see, lo and behold,  _ Morgana. _ His boss casually walked up to his flatmate, who also happened to be his bestest friend in the entire world, and  _ kissed  _ her.  _ Morgana kissed Gwen _ .  _ Holy shit _ .

Merlin was too enraptured by this moment to even see who else walked in the door right after his boss  _ who had just kissed his best friend _ .

He stood there, mouth agape like a goldfish, looking back and forth between the two of them. 

Gwen blushed at Morgana’s touch and made the kiss shorter than it needed to be. 

“Hey, uhhh, Gwen?” Merlin said, breaking the intimate moment laid out before him. “So you’re, uhhh…”

“Yes, Merlin?” Morgana replied, quirking a brow.

“You’re dating my boss, then?”

Morgana laughed. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Merlin shook his head vehemently. “N-no, ma’am. Just, taken aback, is all.”

Morgana smirked, and pulled on Guinevere’s waist, in that couple-y way. Merlin glanced at Gwen in a  _ what-the-hell _ sort of fashion.

She just shrugged and smiled sheepishly, face several shades darker than normal. “Surprise?”

He looked away for a moment, then excused himself to the kitchen, brushing past other bodies filing in from the door.  _ Screw the vow, I need a stiff drink _ .

Gwen’s smile turned into a look of despair as she watched her friend leave so abruptly.

With absolutely no regard for etiquette, Merlin unscrewed a bottle of some brandy and absolutely gagged at the liquid scorching down his throat. 

“You and me both, mate.” 

Melin jumped at the sound, turning and wiping at the dribble on his chin. As if the universe wanted him to have a full-on heart attack, before him stood that awful blond prat. 

“ _ Jes _ us, Arthur. Warn a guy next time.” 

He raised his hands in surrender. “The guys I hang out with usually spook less easily… To be fair.” The blond chuckled and closed a bit of distance between the two of them. He gestured, and Merlin handed over the bottle. Arthur took a long swig then set it to the side. 

The dark-haired man watched from the side, wary.

“So do you just… follow your sister everywhere, then?”

Arthur shrugged, glancing over his shoulder. “Only when I want to lay low.”

Merlin let out a laugh while rolling his eyes. “That sounds as cryptic as ever.”

“Yeah, well maybe if you paid attention to  _ literally _ everyone else, you’d know I am much different from the crowd out there.”

The less-alcohol-tolerant of the two scoffed. “Now you just sound pompous.”

Arthur paused for a moment, a glare in his eyes. Merlin wondered if he was about to be murdered in his own kitchen. However, his expression suddenly changed into a tight-lipped smile. “I’m going to go… elsewhere, now,” Arthur explained, backing out of the room, “before I do something that’ll get us both in trouble.”

Before Merlin could get a word in, the blond had left. Perplexed, Merlin remained there for a few good minutes, unsure of what to do in the moment.

With so many thoughts filtering through his head, the dark-haired man left the kitchen in search for some solace. He made his way to the living area, searching for a familiar face. Merlin should’ve known that he would find Gwaine surrounded by a flock of slightly sober, mostly drunk party-goers, enraptured in his wild tales of travel. 

“... and then the old bat told me to bugger off! I mean  _ can _ you believe that?”

There was uproarious laughter, the story being a big hit. Gwaine beamed with pride, pausing just long enough to swallow whatever concoction lay in his plastic cup. 

Merlin carefully slotted himself onto an empty couch cushion near his friend and waited for his stories to be over, which didn’t seem to be any time soon. At the end of some thought about some wonderfully kind locals in some country Merlin didn’t catch the name of, he interjected before Gwaine could go on. In a swift motion, Merlin managed to slip near his burly friend, anxiety thrumming through his being. Gwaine glanced over at the new presence leering over his shoulder, a glazed over, intoxicated look in his eye. He lazily draped his arm across Merlin’s wiry frame and beamed. 

Merlin tried to smile back but couldn’t muster the energy. He took closeness as an opportunity to whisper into Gwaine’s ear. “Hey… could we talk for a second?”

Having had leaned into to hear Merlin over the swells of noise, Gwaine’s head snapped up his friend’s words. Merlin noticed the sheen in his eyes were gone. A hard gaze took its place as Gwaine studied Merlin meticulously. With a single nod, Gwaine stood from the couch, Merlin following quickly behind.

Upon their departure, Gwaine made many, many drunks unhappy at their lack of a story-teller, but he promised he’d be back for his “adoring fans”.

The two men made their way to hideaway in the closest room that Merlin could find unoccupied. Typically, Gwaine would have been making his typical sly jokes about always wanting to be stolen away by a pretty boy and how he was in need of a  _ really  _ good snogging, yet said nothing; while he may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, Gwaine always knew when he needed to keep quiet. 

As soon as Merlin shut the door behind them, Gwaine started.

“Mate, what’s wrong? Something happen?”

The more gangly of the two sighed, frustrated. They were in more or less of a closet--the most accessible and private ‘room’ for anyone at the moment. Merlin ran a hand over his face.

“I’ve got a dilemma. Actually, it’s a few dilemmas.”

“How so?”

Merlin was grateful for the lack of light in the room, because he was sure he would look positively red in any normal lighting. He chose he next words carefully. “So… do you know that Guinevere’s seeing someone?”

Gwaine nodded. “Morgana, yeah.”

Merlin’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Wait, you  _ knew _ ?”

“‘Course! I found out a while back when they were sneaking around the bar. Wait, did you _not_ know?” “No!” Merlin exclaimed. “I didn’t! Or, at least, I didn’t until thirty minutes ago.”

This time around it was Gwaine’s turn for his eyebrows to shoot up. “Gwen didn’t tell you? Seems unlike her.”

Merlin shrugged. “Tell me about it,” he breathed. 

A loud cheer roared from the living room, which gave Merlin a small fright. Gwaine chuckled at his friend’s predictability but didn’t say anything about it. He appeared to be contemplating something.

“You know, Merlin, maybe she didn’t mention it for a reason.”

“What do you mean?”

“‘M not entirely sure, but… do you think it’s possible she didn’t want you to be mad at her?”

Merlin’s voice cracked over the next phrase that left his mouth. “Why would I be  _ mad _ at her? I mean, I  _ am _ a bit pissed that she didn’t tell me in the first place, but  _ why _ would I be mad from the beginning?”

Gwaine raised his shoulders to his ear. “I dunno, mate. I’m just throwing things out there. This sounds like it should be something you hash out with her, not me. As you know, I am often wrong about Gwen’s love life; and my love life isn’t anything spectacular, so my word is kind of worth jack shit. You know that.”

Merlin nodded.

“All I’m saying is, no matter what they were, Gwen had her reasons. Talking about it behind her back won’t help you any.”

Merlin sighed, and ran a hand over his face once again. “I know! I know that I should talk to her. I’m just--irked, is all. I don’t understand why she never told me.” He stared at the floor, which was very much like looking into a void due to the dimness of the room. 

Gwaine started once more, but was cut off by the door opening suddenly to two drunk party attendees clinging at each other desperately. 

“Oh, ssorry,” the petite blonde slurred. “We’ll le-eave you two be.”

Merlin was clutching a hand to his chest, heart hammering from the sudden intrusion . Gwaine shook his head, whether at Merlin or the couple, he couldn’t tell. 

As the two drunkards left down the hall, Gwaine clapped a hand to Merlin’s shoulder. “Just talk to Gwen. I’m sure she had the best intentions in mind.” He jostled his shoulder a little then went on his way, already diving back into the masses.

Merlin remained in the closet, unable to bring himself to move. Per usual, he found himself wallowing in his thoughts and anxieties.The thoughts continued on and on, much to Merlin’s dismay. Some were alright, some were bad, but they were swirling around and around, which was turning his brain to mush in the process. 

Merlin shook himself from his trainwreck of a brain and quit the closet.  _ Just talk to Guinevere. She’s your best friend, for Christ’s sake. _

  
  


He slid down the wall to the floor, feeling more anxious as time went on. His train of thought went all over the place.

_ Why wouldn’t Guinevere tell me about this? It’s not that big a deal, except it  _ is _ that big a deal. She should’ve just talked to me, I don’t understand why it wasn’t until tonight, not until Morgana showed up. Oh, God, and Arthur. Why the hell did  _ he _ have to be here. What compelled him to come? Gwen is already his ex, and now his half-sister or something is dating her! _

Suddenly overwhelmed, Merlin made an exit. Nothing dramatic, but he had the feeling that he needed to get away from these insane people that flooded his flat. The body heat and the smell of liquor invaded his senses, and was glad to take refuge. The music had been turned off by now since there was less than ten minutes until midnight, yet the television played out some program counting down the seconds you had before you needed to find the person to share a New Year’s kiss with.

Merlin ascended the staircase, already feeling less pressure on his whole being; everything already felt very remote and muted. So much so that he thought he heard a melody from down the hall. It sounded like humming. The sound was familiar but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

Cocking an eyebrow, Merlin followed the source of the humming, which appeared to be coming from his bedroom. When he reached the door, Merlin quietly pushed it open, not exactly sure what to expect; worse case scenario would be a couple on his bed, but he was assuming there would be some different noises being voiced. Much to his surprise, he found a certain blond-headed git perusing his things. 

“Arthur? What’re you doing in my room?” He was perturbed and confused at the thought  _ the _ Arthur Pendragon randomly rummaging about his stuff. Something shifted in his chest, something close to tears. Merlin knew he was being irrational, that he was letting his anxiety get to him, but it was all so overwhelming; the party, the people, Morgana and Guinevere, Guinevere’s secrecy, and now the one person he hated the most--or the person he didn’t  _ want _ to like in any way--was now residing amongst his most personal belongings, his own safe space.

A single tear slid down his cheek, yet Merlin wiped it away as quickly as it came. He inhaled deeply, attempting to repress any and all thoughts of worries from his mind.  _ One more shitty thing added onto a shitty night. It doesn’t matter in the long run. _

Arthur turned around then, an unreadable expression on his face. “Needed to get away. It’s a bit much, the party.”

Merlin thought that odd, that a man such as Arthur found a party an overwhelming scene, but he didn’t voice that. He thought to himself that he may have misjudged him.

“Me too.” His tone was flat.

At that, Arthur quirked an eyebrow. Even in the semi-darkness, Merlin could see it. Neither one of them bothered to turn on the light. “Aren’t you the host of this soiree?” 

Merlin tilted his head side to side. “More or less. It was Gwen’s and a friend’s idea. D’you know Gwaine?”

Arthur smiled in a fond way. “That makes sense.”

The two were quiet for a moment, and Arthur continued to peer at Merlin’s belongings.

“This yours?” Arthur queried, gesturing to the rainbow flag on the windowsill. 

Merlin stilled, his heart humming in his throat. “Uh…  _ yeah. _ Yeah, it is.” The panic was evident in his voice.

Arthur chuckled and sat on the edge of his bed. “Don’t be worried about it. I’m, uh--I’m actually… I’m familiar with this.” He twisted his mouth this way and that, working his teeth over his lips. 

Merlin stood fast in his position, unsure of wait to say. He mulled over his words. “How--I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but how… ‘Cos of Morgana, right?”

Arthur sucked in a breath Merlin could hear from all the way across the room. “Well,  _ yes _ …” He appeared to be searching for something.

“Yes… what? Is there something more? Like...” Merlin, trying the best to keep his distance, but wanting to continue the conversation, rounded the corner of his bed to face Arthur straight on. He was shocked to see him so vulnerable. Merlin didn’t finish his thought.

“But I… I, mean.” Arthur started, staring through Merlin, as if he weren’t even there. His tired eyes searched into the space ahead, never budging. 

Merlin could see the hesitation hiding in the small crease in his brow and the way his mouth wound in itself.

Arthur laughed mirthlessly. “God, I can’t believe…” He ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily.

Merlin came closer, intrigued; he stood to Arthur’s side, unable to stop himself from watching him picking at his fingernails, from what Merlin assumed was a nervous habit.  _ Why was there any need to be nervous? _

Arthur’s gaze came into focus for a moment, fixed on Merlin’s looming figure. He looked away again before another word slipped past his mouth.

“I’m familiar with it because… I’m bi.”

His breath hitched.

“I’m bisexual, Merlin.”

Unable to trust his legs for much longer, Merlin eased himself onto the mattress, his watchful eye never wavering from Arthur. Arthur, however, never once glanced back in Merlin’s direction. A million questions, ideas, fantasies ran through Merlin’s head--so much so that his vision swam. He felt his palms sweat and his heart pounding at his ribcage.

The two men sat side by side for what felt like centuries, neither saying a word to one another. They both had much to say, but didn’t know where to start. Merlin quickly glimpsed at the blond sat next to him, trying to wrap his head around the overload of information flooding his brain. 

They didn’t speak, despite wanting to; and neither had moved as the stroke of midnight erupted in the flat. While the whole world roared around them, they remained in their own quiet pocket of the universe. A new year. 

The start of a new year meant nothing when there were more earth-shattering matters at hand. 

  
  



End file.
